


Asylum

by CanineR7A7



Category: Original Work
Genre: Just something I wrote during my last year of secondary school, Might never finish, Other, inspired by Divergent and The Hunger Games
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-06-13 15:04:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15367239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanineR7A7/pseuds/CanineR7A7
Summary: There was no warning when it happened. One minute, the world was as it should be then, there was nothing. At first the people blamed the governments, but as time went on… well, it was too late by then. War broke out; allies that once stood shoulder to shoulder, now held knives to each other’s throats. It was a chaos unlike any other, many tried to flee, and many died trying. The Earth became a wasteland, buildings crumbled into nothing, and civilisation scattered to the winds.That was a thousand years ago. Civilisation began again, divided between twenty-six settlements, forced into a desperate struggle for survival. There’s a long road ahead, a long road between us and paradise, this is my story.





	1. Chapter 1

The heat was something I could never get used to, which was strange, considering it’s all I’ve known; I hated the way it seemed to wear down everything around me, even the shade seemed tired. I pushed myself from the desk I’d fell asleep on and made a mental note to fix the air conditioning, I’m not the best mechanic in Rust but I haven’t made anything blow up… yet. I trudged over to the battered refrigerator and pulled out a can of broth – days away from going bad – it wasn’t the best thing I’d ever eaten but it wasn’t the worst either. A can of lumpy soup and a heat-induced itch, today wasn’t looking good. I peered over at the schedule pinned up next to the door, yellowed pages curled at the corners from use.

 

“Patrol huh? Not bad.” Life in Rust wasn’t the most entertaining thing in the world, going beyond the fence wasn’t exactly fun either, but it was better than walking around doing nothing. I finished my food relatively quickly; I always did, grabbed my gun and stepped outside. The sun had only just risen above the distant peaks, it would be a while before the day started for the rest of the settlement, may as well sleep in if you can, it’s not like anything interesting ever happens. I marched over to the town square, I never understood why it was considered the centre of life in the settlement, the only structures there were the council house and watch-point, no-one even thought of going there unless it was their job.

 

“Early as ever Domino.” The guard near the entrance grunted, I don’t know his name but I do know that he hates me, it’s not too surprising, I don’t exactly have the best track record. I didn’t bother replying as I pushed open the old doors, the watch-point had three levels; the communal floor where you either waited for your assignment or came to relax after a long day’s work, the basement had been converted into a small prison block – the people were too busy wasting away in the heat for the cells to be used, but it was a good precaution- the top floor is where I’m going, the command centre.

 

“-just remember to be more careful, you’re on thin ice as it is.” I only caught the tail end of the conversation when someone barged passed me, I rolled my shoulder and carried on, many had forgotten manners when the world ‘ended.’ The commander stood in the middle of the room, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers; I didn’t say anything, the man was known for having multiple sleepless nights in a row, and it would be hypocritical of me to tell him to calm down.

 

“All I ask is one day where I don’t have to deal with children.” I kept quiet, the commander knew I was there, he also knew I wouldn’t speak unless he actually wanted my input, I may not be the most popular inhabitant in Rust but I was one of the few people the man trusted.

 

“You already know your assignment Domino; just get your papers and go.” His words don’t offend me; I know his issues aren’t because of my actions. I nod, knowing that speaking could frustrate him in his current state; I find the papers easy enough and leave, it’s not worth staying until he’s calmed down. I leave the building, sparing brief nods for the guards preparing for their shifts; I’m not close enough to any of them for more than that. I head back to my home, unlike the others I chose to live in my station, preferring the ability to change my location without the tedious task of packing everything up. The station itself was made from damaged military vehicles from the wars, the body was reinforced by enough sheets of metal that a nuke wouldn’t be able to dent it – not that I’m willing to test it – there were four wheels on each side, thick rubber reinforced with carbon fibre plating, perfect for the cracked terrain, the only decoration was the word ‘Fortress’ written under the bulletproof glass at the front in chipped paint.

 

“At least there’s no-one around this time.” The last time I’d gone on patrol the others were already roaming the streets, not many people lived in Rust but the Fortress wasn’t the easiest thing to steer, especially near the fragile huts. I approached the gate soon enough, holding the papers up so the guards could see, I could hear the hinges screech even from the soundproof chamber; as the name suggests, Rust is surrounded by thin sheets of corrugated metal that had become rusted over the years – the settlement was in the middle of nowhere, negating the need for a wall, but it made the people feel safe – it wasn’t a pretty sight, but no-one cared about how things looked anymore. I tucked the papers in the storage box beneath the control-panel before driving off; I didn’t respond to the guard’s wave, he wouldn’t be there when I got back anyway.


	2. Chapter 2

The Plains were an endless expanse of dry, cracked earth – where there was once fields upon fields of life, now lay a barren wasteland – few travelled this far from the settlements, those who did hardly ever came back; if the feral creatures that roamed the place didn’t get you, the heat would. I sometimes envy the other settlements, the ones that found their place in the jungle or the vast caverns below the ground, but I wouldn’t willingly move to one of them; I may hate the desert heat, but I have a routine, one that I’m not ready to change. I didn’t focus on my surroundings, the few animals that remained free knew to run the other way, besides I’d long since memorised the route to each of the checkpoints near Rust.

 

Back when the settlements were first created, the people had to rely on a messenger service; at the end of each month, messages from each of the settlements were gathered and delivered by the couriers, it worked out for two years, then one of them went missing and was later found dead. While it was known that it could happen, there was still unrest, which was reasonable considering the people at the time where still from a time where everything was just handed to them. Teams from each settlement were sent to the remains of the towns to salvage any equipment they could find; the end result was the checkpoints, signal boosters for the barely functioning radios in our vehicles and council houses. Sometimes I wish I could’ve lived during those times, when people were still figuring out the emptiness.

 

I arrive at the first checkpoint easily enough; the sun has only just passed the cloud line so the guards back home should be switching out, half the settlement should be awake by now which means I’ll have to be careful when I get back. I open the chamber door and retrieve the gun from its rack; from what I can tell, it’s a refurbished AK-47, the casing that had been painted black long before I earned it – which was rather unhelpful if you had to carry it in the heat all day – had become scratched through years of harsh treatment. I should probably check the inner workings but it’s too late now; I drop from the doorframe, feet thudding against the dry ground, and walk towards the shiny metal structure that houses the checkpoint. There are only three checkpoints near Rust, the settlement has a relatively small population and isn’t important enough to warrant more – it’s a fact that we’ve long come to accept. I quickly press the combination into the keypad, trying to avoid burning my fingers; I heard the click and shouldered the door open, taking a moment to enjoy the shade before climbing the rickety stairs.

 

The top floor of the structure was only big enough for one person, the tight space didn’t bother me, I preferred the solitude it granted. I turned my attention to the yellow box that was bolted to a long metal pole, the pole itself extended far above the structure’s roof – it was, supposedly, meant to improve the spotty signal but I didn’t know if it did much good. I opened the gray hatch that covered the keypad and was met with a blinking green light. I merely shrugged and closed it; there was nothing that needed to be done. I left the structure and locked the door, no-one in their right mind would attempt to sabotage the checkpoint but rules were rules.

 

The journey to the second checkpoint went as easily as the first; the sun was already high in the sky when I got to the structure. I unhooked the split ring from my belt-loop and slotted the first key into the old lock, I could feel the sun-heated metal burning my hand and cursed the fact I had no gloves, the lock’s shackle had rusted to the body – meaning I had to force it open – I heard a faint scraping as it opened and breathed a sigh of relief that the lock didn’t need replacing. I walked into the structure and pulled myself up the ladder on the wall furthest from the door – the second structure didn’t have a second floor – instead, the checkpoint was kept on a storage shelf; there must not have been enough metal to build a second floor, meaning the only way to get to the checkpoint was to wedge my left arm in-between the ladder rungs and the wall, and to open the padlock one-handed. It took a few minutes of pinning the lock to the shelf so I could turn the key and some _very_ colourful language that would’ve had old-age sailors blushing, but the hatch finally opened. I glanced at the yellow light and sighed, there was nothing that needed doing yet, but it was worth noting down. I didn’t bother locking the hatch; my arm wouldn’t support me for much longer, and left.


End file.
